


You're Toxic

by Anonymous



Series: Like Absinthe [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, hence John, sligth crossover with The Dresden Files
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-07
Updated: 2012-11-07
Packaged: 2017-11-18 04:00:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/556664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark gets dragged to Chicago for business, so naturally he will try to escape it any way he can. And if playing hooky from a meeting with a guy he despises puts him in the path of one Marcus Lloyd, consulting wizard, who is he to complain?</p><hr/>
            </blockquote>





	You're Toxic

**Author's Note:**

> This is the result of me trying to do NaNoWriMo and failing to come up with a plot that would last me 50k words, thus choosing instead to write four one-shots. This is open ended enough — if people give me the green light, I think I'll try to make Absinthe a trilogy! (Not counting the interlude.)
> 
> * * *

Chicago in high summer was like being slowly boiled in your own juices. Okay, so it was the first time Tony experienced it, but he already hated it and planned never to return unless it was closer to winter, At least the hotel suite he was staying in and the Mark V — it was the only suit Pepper had let him take, and he had had to take it as a suitcase because they had taken the private jet there — had air conditioning, but he was in the streets, playing hooky from a business meeting.

Coincidentally, said business meeting was with the same person who owned the hotel in which he was staying: John Marcone. Whom Tony disliked a great deal, and the feeling was mutual, ever since they had met about five or six years ago, way before Tony even became Iron Man. They were forced to see each other once in a while — charity galas, movie premieres, the works when talking about wealthy  _philanthropists_ — but they didn't like it. Tony thought Marcone was too anal and square, and Marcone thought Tony was a loose cannon.

Therefore, it was no wonder that Tony was avoiding him as long as he could, despite knowing that Marcone, like him, had been captured and tortured by terrorists at some point. In the interests of not to attracting attention, Tony had left his phone and the suit in the car, and had also left the car behind, only taking his wallet and his sunglasses with him.

So far, he had been to a coffee shop, had amused himself by ordering an extraordinarily complicated concoction that left the barista mildly impressed — or annoyed, it was hard to tell the difference — and had fucked said barista in the coffee shop toilet just because he could. Then he had taken his ridiculous order, gifted it to her and ordered something both normal and palatable, and a banana muffin, and gone out to find a place to eat his meal. Eventually, he had drifted to the park and sat himself down on a bench in a blind spot from what cameras he could see.

He was still there now, half an hour later, sweating like a pig, feeding pigeons the remains of his muffin and bored to tears. Away from his workshop and his phone, he was therefore away from JARVIS and internet, which was what he used to amuse himself when he wasn't at home or in a bar picking up women. A park was the third most unlikely place for him to be, the second being a library and the first being a museum or gallery.

Hm, that gave him an idea. No one would ever think to look for him in a library — not even Pepper, who knew him the most — and libraries nowadays had free internet, didn't they? 'Cause if they didn't, Tony was going to make it happen anyway. Even if he had to deal with Windows. thought he shuddered at the thought.

But, ah, he had no phone. No Jarvis to look up where the closest library. Shit. Um, time to find a native, then?

He looked around. The closest people were a family of three, the mom sitting on a blanket, spreading something on bread, probably making sandwiches despite it being around four in the afternoon, while the father pushed the child, a girl of around five, on a swing. Then there was an old man apparently sleeping in the bench across and to the right from Tony, covered in newspaper — hobo. Lastly, there was a man playing catch-the-Frisbee with a beautiful, humongous dog, a mass of silver and grey hair that looked simply gorgeous running and jumping around, and made Tony wish Howard had let him have a puppy all those years ago.

He got up and dusted himself, then crushed the muffin's paper bag into a ball, put it into the empty coffee cup and tossed them at a nearby trashcan. It bounced off the rim and fell out. Tony cursed, quickly picking it up and throwing it where it belonged, looking around to see if anyone had seen, blushing slightly.

The owner of the dog was close enough that Tony saw the smirk in his face even as the man looked away and pretended not to have noticed. Then curiously, the man turned to look at him again after a few seconds, as if checking him out on the sly, and averted his gaze when he saw Tony still looking. Now it was Tony's turn to smirk.

Animal magnetism, that was him.

Tony approached the man. If he didn't get a phone number, he would at least get directions to the nearest library, and that counted as win-win in his books. He took the time of the walk to check the man out.

He was tall, and his body was slim, so it made him look even taller. He was dressed in sport shorts and a loose tank top, showing off the lean muscles in his arms and legs, and was wearing running shoes. Tony noticed, with approval, that he still managed to look like he belonged in the pages of a fashion magazine regardless. The man was pale, but time under the sun had colored his shoulders and face a faint pink, and he had light brown hair which looked like caramel in the sunlight. He also had the cutest little moustache and goatee combo going on.

The few men he'd been with had all been clean shaven, Tony's brain helpfully supplied, and now Tony was picturing what it would be like to kiss a man with facial hair, what it would feel like brushing against his neck and chest ad he kissed a trail down Tony's body, what it would feel like against the sensitive skin of his inner thigh as the man sucked a mark there...

Tony saw the man had stopped playing with the dog and was now waiting for him to finish coming closer, and he blushed. Now he could see the man's eyes, framed by horn-rimmed glasses: hazel, and they looked honey brown in the sunlight. His heartbeat picked up and his mouth was dry.

Tony licked his lips before talking. "Nice dog, always wanted one as a kid." ' _Smooth, Tony_ ,' he congratulated himself. "Hi, I'm Tony." He extended a hand for the man.

The man grinned easily, warmly, and took his hand in a firm, warm shake. "Hi Tony, I'm Mark. And Mouse isn't mine, sadly," he reached down to pet the dog, "he belongs to a friend, neighbor, who is sick and can't take him to play catch, can he, Mouse?"

To Tony's amusement, Mark descended into baby talk, cooing at his as he butted his head under his hand, begging for some petting. His tail was wagging so hard against Tony's legs that he was sure he would have bruises come night. "Do you think I could join your game?" he asked.

Mark looked up at him considering, and then turned to the dog. "Hey, what do you think, Mouse, wanna play catch with Tony here?" He patted his head and righted himself, looking at Tony. "I don't think he has a problem with it," he said, grinning crookedly, and handed him the plastic disc.

Returning his grin, feeling lighter than he had felt in months, Tony took a couple steps back and threw the Frisbee hard, letting it fly. Mouse ran after it happily, and jumped to catch it high in the air. He ran back and offered it to Mark, who laughed and threw it again, this time at Tony. Tony, unprepared, had to scramble to catch it, and Mouse jumped on him and fought him for it.

They played like this for some time, laughing and carefree, the dog running between them wildly, until Tony started feeling his age and his current fitness level, and he stopped to drop down on the grass and pant like he had just finished a marathon.

"Woo," he exhaled, letting his upper body drop back until he was lying down. Between the fuck in the coffee shop and this, he hadn't done this much exercise in years!

Mark sat beside him, facing him, and the lowering sun painted his flushed skin with a healthy glow. Tony couldn't look away, and found himself propping up his upper body with his arms and sitting to get a closer look. Mark's hazel eyes looked almost green now, in the more reddish light, and Tony reached out to cup his face, bringing him closer.

"Forgive me if I'm reading this wrong," he said, and leaned forward to kiss Mark, but the man turned his head away and Tony's lips landed on his cheek. He pulled back, abashed. "Sorry," he muttered, and started taking his hand away.

But Mark caught it and, biting his lower lip uncertainly, brought it back to his face and laid his hand over it, keeping it there. "I don't like kisses," he explained at last, looking into Tony's eyes briefly, shyly.

"Okay," Tony said, stroking Mark's sharp cheekbone with his thumb, and leaning close again, this time purposely kissing his cheek and running the tip of his nose along it, nuzzling Mark's face.

Suddenly, someone shoved him from the side and he lost his balance, falling back with an  _oof!_

Mouse had pushed him inadvertently. He had sat next to them and leaned on Tony quite suddenly, making him fall, and now that he was at his mercy, he planted his front paws on his chest and started licking his face with abandon.

"Ha-ha, Mouse! Let me go!" Tony laughed, pushing ineffectively at his snout, trying to dislodge him.

Mark helped him by pushing his dog off, calling, "Off, you monstrous fiend!" as he did.

"Oh, my savior," Tony deadpanned when they finally managed to dislodge him and Mark pulled him to a stand. He dusted himself of and caught sight of his watch. "Oh, fuckity shit fuck," he said, paling. How was it six thirty in the afternoon already?

"Something wrong?" Mark asked, holding Mouse back by the collar.

"Yeah, I completely missed a meeting. And I have a business dinner in about an hour." He grimaced. He would much rather stay with Mark, should the man be agreeable, than go have dinner with  _Marcone_. Ugh.

Mark looked at him and his disgusted grimace. "Can't stand the company, huh?"

Tony shook his head.

Then, with no warning or apparent reason, Mark looked extremely coy, his eyes shifting to Tony and away from him, shaking his head to himself.

"What is it?"

Mark seemed to finish the argument in his head and looked sideways at Tony, licking his lips nervously. "How about taking a plus one?"

Tony's eyes widened as he considered this possibility, and his lips spread in a wide smile. "We're going somewhere called Spiaggia. You know it?"

Tony saw a flash of recognition in Mark's eyes. "I know it. I'll be there," he answered quietly, something weird going on in his expression. Like it was hard now, cold. Whatever it was, it passed soon, and Mark asked warmly, "Do you need me to flag you a cab?"

"Tony Stark, in a cab? I'd rather die!" he answered dramatically.

Mark let out a bark of laughter and was overtaken by chuckles. Well, Tony had been expecting him to laugh, but his reaction was way out of proportion. "What is it? What's so funny?" he asked, curious, wanting in on the joke.

Instead of answering, Mark descended into a second fit of chuckles, and covered his mouth with his fist to try to keep them at bay. He shook his head, smiling widely at Tony when he calmed down, and said, "Nothing, really. Do you have your car nearby?"

A bit out of sorts that Mark wasn't sharing the joke, Tony answered, "No, my driver thinks I'm still at the meeting with Marcone." He didn't miss the cold, stony poker face that came over Mark's features at the name. "Can you lend me your phone? Need to call him."

Mark looked at him warily and took out his cell. "Tell me the number," he said, instead of giving the device to Tony, and typed in the number Tony rattled off from memory. Only after pressing call did he hand it over.

Tony raised an eyebrow, noting the "*67" Mark had added at the beginning of the number with curiosity. Why was he so reluctant to let Tony know his number, if only indirectly from Happy's callerid? But Happy's voice on the other side cut him off from his musings. He gave the man directions to the park and returned the phone to its rightful owner. "See you at seven thirty, then?" he asked, just to be sure.

"Yep," Mark answered, putting the leash on Mouse, "See you there. Bye." He bent his head to grave Tony with a kiss on the cheek — Tony'd had been right, facial hair tickled — and walked away, dragging Mouse along, looking back only once to smile at Tony.

' _I'm doomed_ ,' thought Tony, watching him go, staring at his pretty ass.

* * *

 

The Spiaggia was exactly the kind of restaurant Tony would have picked, and it galled him that Marcone shared his tastes. He arrived about ten minutes late, both because he needed the time and because he wanted to show Marcone he didn't care at all whether Tony was making him wait or not.

The joke was on him, however. It turned out Pepper had scheduled the dinner at eight, and had told him to come at seven thirty knowing his habits — and as a way of punishment for skipping the meeting earlier that day — so now he had about fifteen minutes to wait. At least the table was ready.

He sat, ordered the most expensive wine on the menu, not caring what it was, and started playing chess with JARVIS to pass the time. When the maitre d' came to ask if everything was to his liking, Tony requested another place be set up. The maitre d', probably thanks to years of practice, managed not to show annoyance, and simply smiled and said it would be done.

He was about to lose spectacularly when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned on his seat and looked up. He swallowed.

Mark was wearing a suit. A beautiful three piece suit and a silk scarf in tones of grey and green that made him look edible. And he had changed his glasses from horn-rimmed to round, wire ones, colored a dull grey that brought out his eyes.

Tony blinked, speechless, and gestured to the seat next to him vaguely.

Smiling, Mark sat. "Long time no see," he joked.

"Mark, you've no idea how much I've missed you," Tony answered, putting all sorts of longing into his voice, going along with the joke. "I thought I'd never see you again!" He laid his hand on the table.

Mark took it, the corner of his eyes crinkled behind his glasses. "But now I we've found each other again! Oh, joyful day!" he crowed, acting like a simpering woman in a chick-flick.

Then they made the mistake of sharing a look. The sheer mirth in their eyes set the other off; soon they were both laughing like loons, making everyone around them turn to look at them.

"Having fun, Mr. Stark?" came the suave voice of Marcone, ruining both Tony's evening and his appetite.

"Hello, Boss," Mark greeted with a little wave.

Tony looked between them, gaping.  _What?_

Marcone's left eyebrow twitched and he ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair in frustration. "Lloyd. I thought you had requested to have a free day today?" he asked, money-green eyes boring into Tony's date.

"You  _work_  for him?!" Tony asked in outrage, pointing at Marcone.

"Yes, I do," Mark — Lloyd? — told Tony, and then turned to Marcone. "I'm not here in official capacity—Mr. Stark invited me. Why don't you sit, B _oss_?" he ordered, because Tony would be damned if that could be considered a request or an invitation in any sense.

Marcone did, gingerly, like he expected something to blow up at any moment. "And how did you meet Mr. Stark, Lloyd?" he asked, putting on the best poker face Tony had ever seen — yes, counting his own — and waving the maître closer.

Tony had had enough. "Excuse you,  _Mr. Stark_  is right here, you can ask him directly," he said in a miffed tone. "And we met in the park, thank you very much. He was walking a monster dog."

Marcone looked surprised. "Mouse?" he asked, and Tony had to wonder exactly how Marcone knew the name of the dog belonging to Mark's friend.

Mark nodded. "Yeah, Dresden is still recovering from whatever Mab did to him."

Marcone harrumphed. "Well then. Shall we order?"

They took their time perusing the menu and picking their food. Tony spotted Marcone's bodyguard, Hendricks, looming around and invited him to sit, surprising everyone else at the table. What? He  _had_  manners, he just chose when to use them.

Weirdly, with Mark there to diffuse the tension — mainly by getting into philosophy debates with Hendricks and translating between Tony's spontaneity and Marcone's anal-retentive planning — Tony and Marcone got along famously, and managed to reach a deal to mount a arc reactor and get cheap energy, which was what Marcone had been badgering him about for the last two years.

And then, the conversation turned to Mark, despite — and Tony noticed this — all the efforts on Mark's part to change the subject.

"So, what exactly is your job?" Tony asked, suddenly extremely curious.

He saw Marcone and Mark exchanging a glance, before they both spoke at the same time.

"I'm his assistant."

"He's my consultant."

Tony looked at them with a raised eyebrow. "Ah-ha," he said, trailing off, and waited for them to elaborate.

They shared a look again, and Mark gestured at Marcone to speak deferentially.

"As Hendricks is my bodyguard from normal threats," Marcone started in the patronizing tone Tony himself used on the board of directors when explaining a new invention, knowing they would not _get it,_ " Mark here protects me from those magical and supernatural in nature. He usually follows me along, like Hendricks."

Tony nodded. "Ah, I see now. Yeah, the Avengers have one of those, um..." he tried to remember the guy's name, and snapped his fingers when he found the answer. "Ah! Yes, Strange, that's his name."

He saw the recognition and uncertainty in Mark's eyes. "The Sorcerer Supreme," Mark said, glancing at his boss and then whispered something in his ear. Tony tried not to wonder if they were sleeping together.

So he changed the subject a bit. "So, you have magic?"

"Not really, I don't," Mark said, "I just do it." He shrugged. "Magic is produced naturally, you see, by everything. I have a curse on me, so I can't actually create magic like I used to." He looked forlorn for a moment, and when he continued, his voice was subdued. "I just direct energies through circles and rituals, and I can still do potions, so yeah." He shrugged.

Tony felt a lot of pity for him. He couldn't understand what it felt like, but he imagined it would feel akin to suddenly being told he could never build anything again, that he could design it and invent it. but someone else would make it happen. He shivered despite the warm weather, and blamed it on the ice-cream he was having for desert.

Then Hendricks' cell went off, and he looked urgently at John Marcone. "Boss," he said simply.

Marcone nodded, his eyes sharp, and turned to Tony. "So, business is concluded, then, Mr. Stark?"

Tony smiled and extended his hand, "Yeah. We are in agreement. By the way, you are not the square jerk I thought you to be. Someone take the stick out of your ass lately?"

"You could say that," John answered, taking Tony's hand in a firm grip. "I must say, you are not the unruly boor I had taken you for."

"Do you want me to come?" asked Mark, also standing, looking urgently between Tony and his boss.

John seemed to think about it and, getting a mischievous glint in his eye, said, "No need. I have Gard on call, and Hendricks' assures me the problem is strictly vanilla in nature. Have a good night."

"Yeah," Mark sounded annoyed, "I'll try."

Marcone left with one last smug smirk, taking the redheaded gorilla he had for a bodyguard with him.

Tony turned towards Mark, a predatory glint in his eyes. "So..."

The man huffed, half-amused and half-exasperated. "Yeah, okay," he rolled his eyes. "Will your driver take us? Do we need anything?"

Cheering wildly in his head, Tony tried to think of an answer to that question what didn't involve him tackling Mark to the floor and having him under the table of one of the most expensive restaurants in Chicago. "Nah, always carry _essentials_  on me, and I have extra in my suitcase."

Mark grinned crookedly at him again, and fuck if Tony wasn't falling in love a little with that boy-next-door look. He offered his hand to Tony, palm up. "Lead the way, then."

Tony took it and led him out, smiling himself.

The ride to Tony's hotel room was short, only about twenty minutes, and Tony managed to keep his hands to himself — even if not his eyes — and talk with his companion during the whole trip. Well, it helped that Mark had no interest in kissing, which was how Tony usually started, but he managed to sneak a grope to Mark's crotch and a kiss to his neck, both of which Mark received good-naturedly.

He found out, in no particular order, that Mark's real name was Marcus Lloyd, that he had been living in Chicago about six or seven months, that he was thirty-one years old and that his family was originally from Norway. He had come to the US after a particularly bad fight with his dad — they spent some time commiserating over their respective fathers — and brother, intent on making a new life. Tony listened raptly, drinking in every word and squeezing Mark's hand — which he was still holding, and didn't that make him feel like a pre-teen all over again? — reassuringly.

At last they arrived, and Tony kicked off his shoes as soon as he could. He had been in the mood for casual sex earlier, before the chat in the car, but he changed his mind and went for romantic, putting on some music, low and melodic. He led Mark, also barefoot, around the suite, giving him the grand tour.

"So, what do you think? Straight to bed, or shall we try out the Jacuzzi first?" Tony asked, his hands resting on Mark's hips.

His eyes crinkling at the corners, Mark cupped Tony's face in his hands and leaned down to place a kiss on his forehead, his lips resting there. "Jacuzzi sounds nice, but I'm beat from playing with Mouse. I could fall asleep. Maybe tomorrow?"

Aw. Tony would miss out on seeing Mark dripping wet and flushed with heat, playing with bubbles. He didn't know how to feel about the fact that Mark was expecting to stay the night, so he decided to reserve judgment on that for the time being.

So he leaned forward and closed his lips over a fold of Mark's skin, right under his Adam's apple, and sucked a mark into it. He kissed a trail up the man's neck, ending at the earlobe, which he sucked on gently. "Bed, then?" he whispered into Mark's ear seductively.

"Bed," Mark concurred, running his hands down Tony's body as he pulled away, walking towards the bedroom with a sway to his hips that drove Tony crazy.

Tony followed him, undoing his shirt while his eyes hungrily took in Mark. The man was a work of art, truly, especially dressed in a suit like he was, a suit that hugged him in all the right places and streamlined his silhouette, making him even more masculine and edible.

Unable to help himself, Tony curled his arms around Mark from behind and held him close, feeling the warm, solid body, the muscles shifting underneath his arms through the thin fabric of the shirt and vest. He kissed Mark's back right between the shoulder blades, pressing his face against the spot, breathing Mark in — he smelled like Luke, and that made Tony's cock jump in his pants.

He knew it was unfair to Mark, to think of him as a substitute Luke, one more approachable and friendly, more carefree, even though they both smelled the same and shared an aversion to kissing, but he didn't care. As he unbuttoned Mark's waistcoat and shirt, the jacket and scarf long gone the way of the shoes, he could only think of Luke, of his dominance, his strength, as if afraid to show his softer, vulnerable side, and compare Mark to him.

He kissed Mark's shoulder when he peeled off the shirt to reveal it, and showered all the skin he could reach with kisses and tiny bites. Mark wasn't idle; he undid both his and Tony's trousers, letting them fall to the ground with a little help. When Tony finished removing Mark's shirt — finished peeling it off inch by inch — Mark turned around in Tony's embrace and locked eyes with him, showing Tony his dilated pupils and the spark of desire in them, and seeing Tony's own.

"Can't you reconsider the kissing thing?" Tony found himself asking, wanting very much to taste him as deeply as possible.

Mark smiled and, quick as a snake, pecked him on the lips, giggling. That a man who was Marcone's magical bodyguard would giggle blew Tony's mind. "Maybe," the man answered coyly. "What do I get in return?"

Tony thought about it. "You can top?" he offered. It was the maximum sacrifice for him, bottoming. He had done it for Luke, and only once before — drunk, in college, with a guy four years older than him who hadn't cared about his comfort.

Mark seemed to understand, going by the ways his eyes widened. "I'd love to, but only if you are really comfortable with it."

And yeah, Tony had to admit he was. If Mark turned out to be a raging, uncaring psycho, then he was an incredibly good actor. Tony has seen the way he had played with that monster dog, the way he had spoken to it as though it were a real person. The way he had looked at Tony, all soft around the edges. "Then come here and kiss me," he said, cupping a hand behind his neck and pulling him down.

Mark's lips were soft, and Tony matched the softness. Instead of licking Mark's mouth open and plundering it, he started out by layering chaste kisses one over the other, kissing Mark's lips over and over again. Only when he started kissing back did Tony's tongue venture out; tiny, short licks that turned into kisses, all along Mark's bottom lip, and then licks all across the seam, tempting him to open his mouth.

Oh, he opened it alright. He had to, when he caught Tony's nose between his teeth playfully.

"Ow," Tony complained good-naturedly, poking Mark in the side.

Mark let his nose go.

"You really don't like kissing, huh?" Tony asked.

Mark shrugged. "It's pleasant enough, the way you do it," he smiled, not really answering the question, and leaned down to catch Tony's bottom lip between his, sucking on it.

Tony retaliated by groaning loudly, surprised. Running his hands down Mark's back and grabbing two fistfuls of buttocks, he pulled their hips together. He sucked on Mark's upper lip, rolling their hips into a rhythm, and swallowing Mark's sweet, tiny moan of pleasure.

Thus released, Tony snuck his tongue into Mark's mouth and took it back out, slowly running it along the roof. He stepped away, panting, and took off his open shirt and his undershirt, flooding the space around them in the eerie pale light of the reactor. He could see Mark was curious about it. He was right.

"What  _is_  that?" Mark asked, fascinated, and raised his hand as if to tap on it, drawn in like a moth to a flame.

Tony grabbed Mark's wrist by reflex, and then, reconsidering, used it to press the hand flat over the protective casing. "It's okay, you can touch. Just don't take it out or I die," he smiled, thumb rubbing circles into the soft flesh of Mark's wrist. "It's kinda like a pacemaker — keeps my heart beating."

Mark ran his fingers reverently over it. "Wow," he breathed. "Did you make it yourself?"

 _Water, darkness, pain, Yinsen standing over him, weapons laying in pieces around him_.

Tony blinked to wash his eyes off the images of his sting as a hostage. "Yeah," he answered simply. He could have added 'in a cave, using scraps,' but refrained.

Mark kissed his temple. "I can tell there's a painful story behind that, but I won't ask about it."

And he didn't. Instead, he cradled Tony close and... hugged him? Tony, confused, wrapped his arms around his neck and buried his face in Mark's skin, inhaling — he really did smell like Luke.

Then Mark picked him up, exhaling with great effort, and Tony, disoriented, reacted by instinct and clung to him, winding his legs around Mark's hips. He laughed as Mark waded over to the bed and dropped him there. Well, more like allowed Tony to slide down his body, taking Mark's underwear with him as he tried to cling to anything he could.

"Careful," Mark hissed — his cock was still trapped in the underwear, bent uncomfortably. He reached inside to free it completely, and —

Tone  _knew_  that cock.

And then barrage of seemingly unconnected details flew right into his head.

The smell. The aversion to kissing. The way he had laughed at Tony's quip about cabs. ' _He went to Illinois,'_ Jimbo had said. Chicago was in Illinois. Mafia connections. Marcone. Magic consultant. Luke's magic book.

"Luke," he breathed, eyes instantly going to Mark's — Luke's?! — face. He gaped at him, hand hovering halfway to his face as if wanting to check if this was really real but holding back because  _it couldn't._

And then, Mark said the impossible. "Figures you would recognise my cock," he spoke, shaking his head in exasperation, and that was  _Luke's_  voice, his odd not-quite-British accent.

"Holy  _fuck_ ," Tony managed, experiencing something akin to a blue screen of death, taking his hand back as if burnt. His heart was beating overtime. ' _LukeLukeLuke,_ ' was all he could process at the moment.

"Tony, you alright?" Mark — _Luke_ wondered, kneeling between Tony's unresponsive knees and cupping his face in both hands, looking him straight in the eye. "I really thought you already knew and were just playing along — "

Tony cut him off by enveloping him in a crushing hug, overwhelmed, tucking his face in the crook of Luke's — _Luke's!_ — neck, inhaling, running his hands all over his skin, reassuring himself that this was  _real_. "I thought I would never see you again!" he babbled, muffled by Luke's skin.

He distantly heard the amused huff ruffling his hair, distantly felt Luke's hands settling hesitantly on his waist. "You  _wanted_  to see me again?" Luke stammered, the fingers on Tony's waist twitching.

Tony took one last deep breath, inhaling the smell of his skin, and looked up.

Luke looked uncertain, his mouth a bit open as if he wanted to say something but didn't know what, his eyes flitting all over except Tony's own.

So Tony answered the only way he could: carding his hand into Luke's hair and bringing his face down into a hard, bruising kiss. "I did," he confessed afterwards in a whisper against Luke's lips — _Luke!_ He still couldn't quite believe it. "Came looking for you. Jimmy said you had skipped town."

Luke's eyes softened, though whether at Tony's confession or the mention of Jimmy, Tony wasn't sure. "That romantic idiot," he muttered affectionately — well, that answered the question — and added, "He was supposed to tell everyone who came asking I was dead, but I guess the moron wanted you to find me."

Tony shrugged, not knowing how to answer that, and snatched Luke's glasses off. "Guess you don't need these, after all," he explained, folding them and setting them on the bedside table. "You wearing colored contacts again? Also, I could have sworn you were a redhead." He glanced pointedly at Luke's crotch, signifying the pubic hair, which had been dark red before and was now dark brown.

Luke grinned proudly at him. "Did you think I would forget to match the carpet with the drapes? I also dyed my beard and eyebrows." He pointed at his eyebrows as if showing off the color.

Tony laughed, feeling light-hearted. "The beard changes your face a lot. I knew there was something about you," Tony smiled, "I just couldn't tell what."

"I admit it was very amusing to see how long I could hide." Shrugging, he reached into his pants' pocket and withdrew the contacts' case. He took the contacts off with the ease of long practice, said, "There's no need for these now, is there?" and tossed the case back in the general direction of his pants.

Then he ran his absinthe-green eyes up and down Tony's body, biting his lip.

Tony practically felt the gaze like a hand touching him in all the right places. He took off his underwear and scooted back on the bed, leaving room for Luke, and made grabby hands at him.

The man smirked wickedly and walked predatorily up to the bed, and then he  _crawled_ onto it and over to Tony with the grace of a panther. "No more kissing now," he commanded, crouched over him, tapping a finger on Tony's lips.

For all answer, Tony arched a brow, silently accepting the challenge, and sucked Luke's finger into his mouth, curling his tongue around it. Luke's eyes narrowed in pleasure, and Tony sucked hard on it to see if he could made him moan.

He couldn't, but it earned him a pleased sigh. Eyes half-lidded, Luke told him, "I think I'd like you to ride me."

' _Yes. Fuck yes!_ ' Tony thought, imagining it, picturing the pleasure of moving at his own pace, impaling himself on Luke's perfect cock. But he knew better than to accept so easily — he remembered the way Mark had led his and Marcone's conversation around like a puppy on a leash until they reached an agreement on a deal  _Mark_  proposed — so what he said was: "I think I'd like you to blow me." He even matched Luke's almost whimsical but mostly mischievous tone.

This seemed to impress Luke, going by the quirk of his eyebrow.

If that didn't say ' _I'm strangely aroused by this,_ ' then Tony would eat his underwear.

"You appear to have learnt how to haggle since I last saw you," Luke approved. He sat up in Tony's lap, carefully making it so his cock laid next to Tony's and their balls touched, crossed his arms over his chest and tapped his chin thoughtfully, making a show of considering the counteroffer. "Very well then," he said at last, his eyes piercing Tony like a pin does a bug in an entomologist's collection, "I believe I shall agree to that bargain." He had exaggerated his odd accent, knowing what it did to Tony, how much it turned him on.

But Tony pretended it didn't, simply pointing down at his crotch and saying cheerfully, "C'mon, get to it! Chop, chop!"

Luke arched a sarcastic eyebrow at him, his green eyes gleaming dangerously but still slithered down his body like a damned snake, rubbing his stomach and chest on Tony's cock. Suddenly, he planted his hands on Tony's knees and brusquely parted them, settling in the middle.

Tony decided to be helpful and curled a hand around the base of his cock, pointing it at Luke's mouth.

Luke regarded him condescendingly and, without saying anything, took Tony's hand from around his cock and placed it in his hair. Looking at Tony through hooded eyes, he waited a few heartbeats after letting Tony's hand go to make sure he had received the message — and had Tony ever! — then curled his own hand around Tony's cock and held it still as he lowered his head to mouth at the base, sucking a hickey there.

Tony gasped at that, at the feeling of the beard and whiskers prickling his most sensitive skin. He fought his body's urge to arch off the bed and shiver, trying to keep his grasp on dignity, but failing utterly. He bit his lip and decided to retaliate beyond clenching his fist in Luke's hair, trailing his bare foot along Luke's leg up the back of his thigh and then the vulnerable inside, before arching his foot to run against Luke's crotch from behind. He smirked down at Luke with half-lidded eyes, seeing him close his eyes in pleasure.

Luke not only allowed the contact, but encouraged it by rubbing his ass against that foot. Then he pumped the cock in his hand a few times and smirked, before leading the head to his mouth and licking the tip with the flat of his tongue, tasting Tony. He blinked his eyes open, startled, and looked at Tony, confused. "You taste like coconut," he said, but his voice lifted in the last syllable, making it sound like a question.

That made Tony raise a brow, as surprised at Luke. No one had ever told him that! He chuckled. "Do I? Must be the core of my  _pacemaker,_ " he panted, voice hitching at the last word when Luke ran his thumb over the slit of Tony's cock. For payback, he rubbed his foot down the valley of Luke's firm ass.

Luke's regaled him with a little moan, before bending his head back down and drawing the mushroom-shaped head into the circle of his lips, suckling softly and sliding the foreskin back and forth. With his other hand, he ran a fingertip along Tony's balls, tickling the downy hair there.

Tony shuddered at how he played, biting his lip. "Mmmm." He couldn't help the way his hands — yes, both — carded and scratched through Luke's hair. He missed the longer hair, though; he could have used the handhold right about now. Tony's other foot joined its twin behind Luke's ass, and they dug into the flesh there, rubbing and caressing under either cheek.

Luke moaned around Tony's cockhead, the vibrations heavenly, but then he lifted his head, letting go of the cock with a loud  _pop_ , and pinned Tony with a heated glare. "Stop distracting us, Tony," he growled. "Are you not enjoying my mouth?" he enquired, mouthing the underside of the cock and giving it tiny licks. "You requested it, after all, didn't you? Learn to take pleasure,  _Tony,_ " he purred, giving the cock a chaste kiss at the tip and stroking it softly, waiting for Tony's decision with hooded eyes.

Tony blushed and his heart skipped a beat at the arousal he saw in Luke's eyes. Why hadn't they done this face to face before? "Y—you're right, I did." And he wasn't regretting it — Luke was good. Luke was the most amazing Tony had ever had, and he hadn't even started for real yet. "So get on with it."

Luke grinned, looking like the cat who got the cream, and got the cock back in his mouth. He sucked out the precum as if it was a straw — or at least it felt that way to Tony — moaning delightedly at the flavor. Then he started licking the shaft, covering it with spit,.

Tony braced himself for what was about to happen.

Apparently judging it wet enough, Luke fed the cock into his mouth, being very careful to wrap his lips around his teeth, and started bobbing his head, body completely relaxed into the space between Tony's legs.

Tony's body tensed and he let out a wrecked howl of pleasure, head falling back as his fists clenched a bit in Luke's hair. He bit his lip, trying to keep the moans at bay as Luke started actively sucking, and failing miserably. Oh, he wanted so much to touch Luke, kiss him — something — but instead he allowed himself to enjoy Luke's tender lips, his skilled tongue, and he would worry about Luke later. He opened his half-lidded eyes to watch Luke, finding his excitement growing at the sight.

Luke had his eyes open and was looking back at Tony. He didn't know what exactly Luke saw there, only that it made him moaned around Tony's cock and start sucking harder, licking more, and overall being the best little cocksucker ever, just for Tony. He raised his free hand to one of Tony's in his hair, pulling it out, and intertwined their fingers as he drew the cock further in with a long suck and swallowed around it.

It made Tony gasp like a landed fish, gripping Luke's hand like a lifeline. Damn... He was getting close already, what with Luke's mouth so perfect around his cock. He knew just how to do it all, and he was pushing Tony closer and closer to the edge. He took a deep breath, moaning deeply. "You're—fucking amazing—at this... Just saying," he gasped.

Luke smiled as he could around Tony's cock and drew a little heart with his thumb on the back of Tony's hand (which made him think ' _Awww,_ ' though he wasn't sure it had been on purpose). Then he pulled off with an obscene wet sound, muttered, "They don't call me  _silver-tongued_  for nothing," with a wink and sucked the head of Tony's cock back into the tight, red circle of his lips, rolling it around in his mouth like a lollipop.

It made Tony whimper, hoping he would return to sucking him properly instead of teasing.

As if reading Tony's mind, Luke led the hand in his grasp back to his head and rested it on his hair, pressing it down in a clear invitation to push. Then he let his hand fall palm flat against the delicate skin of Tony's hip and, winking at Tony, pressing his head back against Tony's hands like a cat asking for a petting.

Confused, Tony obliged, petting and gently pushing his head down.

Luke sucked the cock back in to the root, swallowing again and again. He repeated this action, pressing back against Tony's hand then resuming his ministrations when Tony pushed him down, using his free hand to play with Tony's balls, under them, behind them, pressing into the soft skin he found there.

Tony was gasping and moaning even more now, loud in bed as he was in all other aspects of life, seeing his cock disappear into those perfect, red, wet lips. He was in between caressing and gripping Luke's hair, urging him to go faster. "Unnnfff," he huffed. "So—unnn—close... Ah!" he gasped, gripping Luke's head and guiding it this way and that, loving the way the man just  _let_ him do it, like right out of high-quality porn.

Luke moaned and sped up his movements, adding a swirl of the tongue on the cockhead and a small amount of suction between pulling off and back on again. He slid the hand he wasn't using to prop himself up — the one on Tony's hip — around and behind the jut of the bone, digging his fingers into it to use it as a handhold. He pulled Tony's hips up when he bobbed down and pushed them away as he drew back.

If Tony was reading things right, he was  _inviting Tony to fuck his mouth as he wished_.

The first thrust was automatic, a reflexive reaction to the sheer hotness of what Luke was allowing him to do. "Unnn... D—damn it, Luke," he moaned, dropping his head down again. He gave another tentative thrust, still marveling, still reeling, and felt Luke simply swallow around his cock. Impatience soon built — he was near his orgasm and wished for it more and more, completely forgetting about his promise to ride Luke.

But Luke — in a rare display of empathy, Tony felt — didn't stop him. Instead, he slid his hand up along Tony's chest, resting it flat on the middle of it, covering the arc reactor.

Tony was sure Luke could feel his racing heart through the vibrations of its beats against the casing. He looked up, catching his eyes.

Luke gave him a minute nod of permission — more of a blink, really — and, relaxing the muscles of his neck, stopped moving, allowing Tony to push and pull his head onto and off his cock as he wanted.

Tony was so close now, so close... He gripped Luke's head tightly and began a motion, slow as first, savoring the feeling, before picking up speed. "Hah... Hah... Ha—ah!" His gasps soon turned into moans as he grew confident, pushing and pulling Luke's mouth back and forth, thrusting into that heavenly mouth without a care in the world. "Ah, ha, L—Luke!" he bit his lips and finally, finally came, releasing into Luke's mouth as he gasped, overcome with the ecstasy of his pleasure. He panted, wrecked, trying to catch his breath, caressing Luke's hair tenderly.

Luke pulled his head back with one last suckle and rested it on Tony's leg, scratching his now oversensitive skin with his little beard. 

An aftershock made Tony shiver. He ran his hand through Luke's hair almost lovingly, and raised his head to watch him with half-lidded eyes at the soft sigh this produced.

"Enjoyed yourself, did you?" the man enquired in an almost bored voice, raising himself on all fours and crawling over Tony, covering him in shadows cast by the overhead light. His lips looked red and  _used._

Tony wanted to kiss them.

"Want to taste yourself on my tongue?" Luke offered, licking quickly at the seam of Tony's lips, tempting him.

Tony felt like he had just been offered to trade his soul by the Devil. Why did it feel so good? "How are you even  _real_ ," he wondered, fumbling with one hand to pull Luke's head down. He opened his mouth gladly, and twined his tongue around Luke's, drawing it into his mouth to suck on it. He did taste coconut, surprisingly, among the usual salty-and-bitter taste, and he decided he liked the combination, if it came with added Luke flavor.

Luke bit Tony's lips, prompting him to let go. "Aren't you forgetting something?" He sounded more amused than expectant, really.

But Tony knew what he was really asking. "I'm not," he reassured Luke, stroking his back with the edge of his fingernails, "I'm just tired. Playing with Mouse killed me dead." He yawned, turning his head away from Luke's face so as not to blow all the hot air smelling of his breath at him, and blinked sleepily. "Can I ride you in the morning?" That was a nix on the Jacuzzi, then.

Luke seemed incredibly irked, understandably. His mouth twitched to the side in displeasure. "You are assuming I'm going to stay," he warned, moving to lay on his back beside Tony. "Why should I, when you would leave me like this?" he asked, indicating his still raging hard cock with a vague motion.

Tony blinked again, his eyelids feeling like lead. "I know, I'm sorry. You were wonderful," he mumbled sleepily. "Feel free to hump me?" he offered, grinning.

Luke's eyes narrowed dangerously and he bared his teeth. Tony's heart skipped a beat for all the wrong reasons. " _Hump_  you, like a common  _animal_?" Luke cried in outrage, reaching out to pinch one of Tony's nipples and twist it — hard.

"Ow, ow, fuck, okay!" Tony shouted, batting Luke's hand away, getting angry as well. "Okay, damn it. What do you want, a blowjob? Handjob?"

Luke merely glared at him.

"Fuck, I  _know_  I said I would ride you!" Tony sat up, annoyed. "And I will! Just not now, for fuck's sake! I'm tired here — riding you will kill me, I swear!"

Averting his gaze, Luke seemed to deflate. "Okay," he said, subdued. "Maybe a handjob, so I don't die of blue balls." He looked at Tony, apologetic. "At least you didn't fall asleep on me, this time," he teased, good-naturedly.

Tony almost believed him. ' _Playing the pitiful card much?_ ' "Pass me the lube in the drawer. I'll give you the handjob of your life," he said, determined. He wasn't so sleepy anymore, but his muscles, especially those of his hips and back, were complaining when he moved.

Amused, Luke did as asked, handing Tony the lube. "Thank you," he whispered sincerely, and looked for all the world like a boy waiting in line to receive some candy.

Adorable. It wasn't a word Tony would have associated with Luke, before, but there you have it. He shifted to Luke's side, pasting himself along it, and laid his head of the crook of Luke's shoulder, hearing his still racing heartbeat. Tony's head was lifted with each breath Luke took. He got the sudden urge to lick Luke's nipple, so he bowed his head a little on his chest and did so, earning a gasp he heard very clearly and a hand in his hair.

Flipping open the cap of the lube, he simply upended it over Luke's cock and squirted out a generous amount, making Luke hiss and clench his hand tighter in Tony's hair. The gel started liquefying instantly, sliding down Luke's gorgeous cock, which was flushed red and dripping precum. Tony snapped the cap closed against Luke's flat stomach and left the tube there for easy reach, before using his hand to gather up the fallen gel and sliding it around Luke's cock. He latched onto Luke's nipple, suckling at it obscenely, as he started jerking him off at a hard, punishing pace.

Suddenly, Luke's hand was on his wrist.

Tony froze.

"Go slower, Tony," he felt more than hear reverberating in the chest under his ear. "If I wanted fast and hard I'd do it myself, don't you think?" And then Luke used the hold on Tony's wrist to move his hand at a slow, dragging, almost worshipping pace.

Tony started following it on his own soon enough, catching the drift. He could feel the tension in the muscles under his head shifting as Luke relaxed.

At last, Luke let go and,  sighing happily,  reclined his head again. "Ohhh, like that, mmm," he groaned, and Tony knew that he was being extra vocal for Tony's benefit. He also rubbed the tips of his fingers encouragingly around in Tony's scalp, making  _him_  sigh in pleasure.

Tony, feeling generous, moved his hand to the bulbous head and started playing with the foreskin. He made a circle with his thumb and index finger tight against it, and used the friction of skin on skin to glide the foreskin back and forth. It made the gleaming wet glans, flushed red, poke out and hide back in, and he found it unexpectedly cute, like a turtle poking its head out and into its shell again.

Weird. He had never felt anything like that towards his own penis.

Licking his lips, he cupped the very head and started twisting his hand over it, making Luke's breath hitch. Tony was fascinated by how slick everything was. He hadn't even used that much lube — part of the moisture was Luke's own precum.  _Tony_  was doing this to him, and he was loving it. "Faster now?" he asked, trying to pass for nonchalant and missing it by a mile. He  _wanted_  to go faster, and not just to make this end because he hand was getting tired — though it was — but because he had front row to Luke's noises and he wanted to hear him come, hear the moans and whimpers made just against his ear.

"Yes," Luke answered, voice breaking under the strain, his hand cupping Tony's head and guiding his mouth to his nipple again.

Tony took it obediently, and started pumping, up, down, up, down, tightening his hand on the way up, pulling on Luke's shaft with a soft squelching sound. ' _Almost like milking him._ ' The thought made him giggle against Luke's sopping wet nipple, sending little puffs of air over it.

Luke threw his head back and whined, the hand in Tony's hair making a fist. He started thrusting up against the hand. "Faster," he breathed.

Pleaded? Was he begging? ' _Wish I had a diary so I could write about this in red,_ ' Tony thought, giggling, and obeyed, increasing the speed of his hand.

The soft squelching sounds, obscene already, gave way to wet slapping sounds. 

Tony started to feel a burn in the muscles of his arm. Shit. "Hope you're close, 'cause my arm is starting to complain," he said, sing-song, going even faster and gripping even tighter — where before the tunnel of his fist had been sliding over Luke's cock, it was now gripping the foreskin, making it glide, stimulating everything.

He felt the vibration of Luke's grumble. " _Sissy,_ " Luke hissed, and curled his hand around Tony's hand.

Tony stopped trying to move his hand, letting Luke move it for him, thrusting hard into the circle of his fingers. Tony — well, his hand, really — had been relegated to sex toy instead of participant, to something akin to a glorified Fleshlight. He was incredibly okay with that, as it allowed him to focus his attention on Luke himself, to hear all the sounds Luke made.

Little breathless gasps, hitches of his breath, his heart beating overtime, his pants that turned into moans, the small whimpers that escaped him when he was out of air but needed to express his pleasure anyway...

Tony wished he had been recording this — he could probably get off by hearing the audio alone. Without touching himself at all.

Suddenly, Luke's pants started turning into moans sooner, and his hips lost all semblance of rhythm and coordination with his hand.

Tony understood at once that he was about to come, and took over again, pumping Luke's cock the way Luke had done, and pressing his ear tight against Luke's chest.

"Hah—ah! Tony, like tha—ah!" Luke grunted, clutching Tony closer, and gave a strangled moan.

Tony felt wet warmth trailing down over his fingers, and the gliding of his hand over Luke's cock got a lot more slippery. He stroked Luke through his orgasm, making sure to maintain constant, even, delicious pressure.

He must have overdone it into Luke's post-orgasmic oversensitivity, though, because the man jerked when Tony's hand brushed over the wet, gleaming glans and, growling, he slapped Tony's hand away.

"Okay, okay, too much, got it," Tony smiled into Luke's chest, speaking condescendingly.

Luke pulled on Tony's hair sharply. "Don't mock me, Tony," he warned, and then soothed the hurt in Tony's scalp. "Also, that was the lousiest handjob I've ever had," he added.

Tony could hear the smile in his voice. "Uh-huh, whatever you say, Ron Jeremy," he teased, pushing his head up until his cheek slotted on the soft, fleshy bit between Luke's pectoral and shoulder, looking up at him, hesitantly. Tony didn't usually do second helpings, so he didn't know the protocol — should he ask Luke to stay or kick him out? What did it mean that he had stayed the night the last time they had been together, if it hadn't really been his choice?

Luke smiled at him, eyes soft around the edges, and leaned up to kiss Tony's forehead, tickling it with his beard, his lips lingering there. "I think I'll stay," he spoke, lips brushing Tony's skin, as if reading his mind. Then, when Tony blushed and said nothing, he set the tube of lube on the top of the bedside table. Then, taking advantage of his apparent knowledge of Marcone's hotels, he stretched and turned off the lights with the swtich within arm's reach of the bed.

Once they were plunged into darkness — or as close as they could manage with Tony's built-in nightlight shining like a beacon — he felt Luke relax back into bed. "Goodnight," he muttered, muffled against Luke's soft skin, not really knowing what else to say.

Luke laughed and ran his free hand — the arm Tony wasn't laying on — down Tony's sweaty back, petting him gently several times. The repetitive motions lulled him to sleep, and the last thing he was aware of before the Sandman took him were the words "Goodnight, Tony," spoken softly into his hair.

* * *

Tony woke up after a nightmare about Loki which he couldn't quite remember, though he had the faint idea it involved him, wearing the Iron Man suit, being ridden by Loki like some flying motorcycle. His head moved through no action of his own, and the recalled he had fallen asleep on Luke. The sun was barely up, he could see the sky was still red through the closest window.

He tried to go back to sleep, but the unfamiliar feeling of a body — warmth, the sound of breathing, movement with each breath — distracted him again and again, making it impossible. Resigned, he decided to give Luke the sexy wake-up call he had promised him, and ride him into oblivion.

But then, when he lifted his head to check if Luke was indeed still asleep and not just playing possum, his stomach growled long and loud.

The noise made Luke stir, only a little, just turn his head and wrinkle his nose cutely.

Tony smiled, smitten — he had been right, all those months ago: he had ended up getting attached. Using his hunger as an excuse — already making the speech in his head, in case Luke woke up when Tony was getting off the bed — he got up and got dressed as quietly as he could — which was really quiet when he wasn't hung over — left, grabbing his wallet.

The coffee shop from yesterday had had a little sign on the door with the business hours. It was about half past five in the morning, but that coffee shop was too far away to justify the trip as "getting breakfast". Instead he asked the bleary-eyed receptionist and she directed him to a nearby Starbucks.

Tony thanked her and left, yawning. It was only a block away and the streets were deserted, so he made it there in less than three minutes. Awesome.

He wasn't in the mood to tease the barista, preferring to brood about his life choices instead, so he ordered a latte with an extra shot of espresso. He didn't know what Luke would want, so he ordered a latte for him — no one disliked lattes. When he went to pay, however, he found that the wallet he had grabbed was Luke's, not his. They must have had the same routine: get home, take out wallet, keys and phone from pants and leave them close to the door. In the darkness, Tony must have snatched the wrong one.

Figuring he would pay Luke back later, he borrowed some money and paid for both drinks and two muffins. While he waited for his order to be done, he decided he might as well snoop, and started rifling through the wallet.

He found the usual. Credit cards, some urban transport card, a gym membership card (!), Mark's driver's license (he was purportedly born on the 21st of December, 1981) and some old pictures of him and Jimmy, setting up what looked to be the cupboards behind the bar in Ice and Fire... Oh, right, Luke had been clean-shaven then, and his hair bright copper-red.

It was amazing what a little change like hair color did to a man's face. Tony wondered what his natural hair color was. Blonde? Black? Ooh, black would look  _great_  on Luke, what with the contrast with his almost translucent pale skin. He pictured it in his head, Luke, clean-shaven, with black hair and his poison-green eyes and realized —

_Luke came to the US after a particularly bad fight with his dad. Luke did magic and worked for Marcone as a consultant on everything magical and supernatural. Norway. His odd accent. His otherworldly ability to talk his way out of things or talk anyone into anything. Jimmy, saying, "someone from his old life popped up and saw him, so he had to disappear." Luke had said, "with the life I lead, it wouldn't do for people to remember me."_

 — Luke was Loki.

Tony's world tilted on its axis and blurred, and he had to grab onto the edge of the bar, knuckles white, to keep himself upright. His every thought, usually some seven or ten simultaneous trains, suddenly became a litany of ' _Loki! Loki is here. I let him fuck me. Let him touch the arc reactor. Loki, shit, what? What the hell?_ ' and his chest felt tight, like it was contracting around the casing of the arc reactor.

He realized he was hyperventilating and tried to calm himself down, taking deep breaths.  _'Okay, Stark,_ ' he told himself, ' _chill the fuck out. So what if you slept with a mass murderer? You do that every time you masturbate._ ' He slapped himself softly, trying to get his brain to stop reeling. ' _And you enjoyed every second of it, so stuff it. What do I do now?_ '

Indeed, what  _did_ he do now? Did he pretend nothing happened? Did he call SHIELD about the deity of Mischief and Lies disguising himself as a human and rubbing elbows with the mafia? Were they even still looking for him? Fuck.  _Fuck_.

He got his phone out. "Jarvis, patch me over to Fury," he said, holding it in with his shoulder while he looked into the wallet.

* * *

 

Loki woke up in a cold bed at the sound of a door closing and the  _flap_  of a cardkey being tossed onto a table. Stark must have gone out while he was sleeping — weird, he hadn't thought the man an early riser.

"Honey, I'm home!" came the man's voice from the living area. "And I brought breakfast with me!"

Loki smiled, smelling the coffee even from his spot on the bed — which still smelled of sex and Stark, and no, he hadn't buried his face in the sheets and inhaled deeply to check — and stretched. He hadn't slept so well in what felt like ages, ever since he had broken up with Jimmy and kicked him out because he started reminding Loki too strongly of Thor.

Stark had been oddly thoughtful to bring him breakfast, especially considering that, the last time they had been in this position, the man had ran for the hills the second Loki had suggested it. ' _Then again_ ,' Loki smirked, ' _he can't exactly run here; these are his rooms, after all._ ' So he got up at his leisure, stretching some more, and got his pants on, deciding against dressing because he was going to make Stark keep his end of the bargain and ride him soon. 

Fallen god or not, Loki still fell prey to hunger, so he sleepily walked into the living area, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

Stark was sitting on one of the sofas, the coffee cups resting on the decorative low glass table in front of him.

Loki dropped ungracefully next to Tony.

The man handed him a cup. "Hope you like lattes," Stark asked and retreated his hand. He was sitting about ten centimetres away from Loki, looking uncomfortable.

Loki smirked and closed the space, getting into the man's personal bubble. "Many thanks," he murmured, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek.

"Don't," Stark said, evading him.

Loki laughed. So staying last night had been too much intimacy for playboy Tony Stark? "Are you breaking up with me?" he asked, affecting a clingy-teenager voice, smirking in good humour, and took the cup to his mouth, taking a sip.

Almost immediately he spit it back out into the cup — discreetly, of course.

It was drugged.

' _Oh, no,_ ' he thought with dismay, ' _he knows_.'

Stark laughed, oblivious to Loki's turmoil, and answered, "Of course not, baby."

His pathetic façade didn't fool Loki for one second. He could see the man's hesitation, his unease, the way his eyes flickered over the door and windows, as if looking for exits. The way he sat with his back straight and his legs under him, as if just waiting for the signal to explode into action, when usually he sprawled confidently.

Pasting a frown of distaste onto his face, Loki handed Tony back the coffee. "I'm lactose intolerant," he said as all explanation, his brain already working overtime for a way out of this situation. Had Stark already alerted the rest of the Avengers? ' _Oh, don't be a fool. Of course he has,_ ' he told himself, trying to ignore the odd burning sensation in his chest.

Stark looked nervous for a split second, but managed to cover it up. "Bullshit. You piled a metric fuckton of cheese onto your pasta last night."

So he wasn't going to let it go, then. It felt like betrayal. Loki had got on his  _knees_  for him, had allowed him so see him at his most vulnerable, had shown him everything that was important to him in this life, and the mortal, the  _stupid, stupid_  mortal simply spat on it.

Well,  _fine._ ' _If that's the way you want to play, Tony, let's play._ '

"You are right," Loki said frostily, "I lied." Before Stark could react, Loki jumped on him, pinning his arms against his hips with his knees, and tore open his shirt, baring the  _pacemaker_. Of course Loki knew exactly what it was, he wasn't stupid. He grabbed and twisted the centerpiece, pulling it out, and kept pulling until the cables that connected it to the magnet in Stark's chest stretched taut.

"Don't!" Stark gasped, pale as a ghost, his voice broken and weak, his eyes bulging.

Loki, suddenly feeling weary, reached behind himself and got the coffee, tilting it into Stark's mouth. "Then drink."

Stark shook but looked straight into Loki's eyes, a spark of defiance present in his gaze despite his shrunken pupils.

"Whatever you put in this, I assume it's not lethal, so drink it."

The mortal's eyes crossed as he stared at the cup with trepidation, and his lips remained firmly shut.

"Oh, so you don't even know what they gave you to poison me with!" Loki laughed coldly, lording it over him, though inside he felt like he was crumbling into pieces. It could have killed Loki, for all Stark knew, and he didn't care at all? He took the cup to his own lips, free hand still pulling on the cables that went into Stark's chest, and sucked as much as he could hold into his mouth. Then he tossed the cup away, uncaring, and used his hand to grip Stark's chin and force his mouth open.

The mortal had wanted kisses? Well then, he would give him  _kisses_.

Loki crushed his lips against Stark's and spat the poisoned liquid into his mouth, letting go of the cables to clamp Stark's nose close.

Stark made a valiant effort of trying to spit or twist away from Loki's grip, but soon had to give into his need to breathe and, resigned — Loki could feel the tension leaving his shoulders as he gave himself to his fate — he swallowed, eyes tearing up even as they bore into Loki's with hatred burning bright in them.

Once he was sure Stark had drunk all of it, Loki let him breathe, and the human took the chance right away, gasping and heaving for breath urgently. "You— _asshole..._ " he managed between pants.

Loki stared at him, impassive, though he was afraid his eyes belied his apathy. "You brought it upon yourself, Tony," he said, voice heavy but emotionless, "when you offered me poisoned food after I had been nothing but courteous to you."

Stark narrowed his eyes. "After you  _invaded_  us, you mean? After you come back here and—and what, try to invade again? Vacation?" he snarled.

Loki calmly cupped his cheek and brushed his thumb along his skin.

Stark, for some unfathomable reason, allowed him.

"I'm serving my sentence for that crime. Odin turned me into a  _monkey_  like you." He sneered at the way Stark's eyes widened. "What, you thought they let me off scot free?  _Think again._ "

Stark averted his gaze from Loki's, but tilted his face into Loki's touch. "Death," he huffed, "they sentenced you to death, but didn't bother to kill you." His mouth twitched briefly, though if it was in disgust, amusement or anything else, Loki couldn't tell.

He nodded, relaxing at the fact that Stark understood. "Death of old age, disease, or any of the other myriad ways to kill your fragile species," he grimaced, getting the arc reactor from where it hung back into Stark's chest, feeling him getting a bit out of it. "To supposedly teach me  _compassion_ , but I can tell they are hoping I'll die and be out of their hair for good." He smiled sadly and shifted his legs so that Stark would free his hands.

Which Stark did, only to settle them on Loki's waist. He gave a small nod, almost to himself, before turning his gaze — soft, now; understanding — back to Loki's, locking them together. "The guy who gave me the powder said... would work in five minutes... SHIELD would come in to capture you in ten in case it took longer," he slurred, the drug clearly working.

Loki's eyes widened, as he wondered why Stark was telling him this, but the man continued before he could ask.

"I... take my wallet. I have... money there... use the credit cards too," he managed, his eyes closing of their own accord. "...Had Jarvis give them... you address... sorry." He was struggling to keep awake and keep talking, but the drug, poison, whatever it was, was too much for him, and he nodded off.

Loki guided him down to a foetal position on the couch and bit his index finger until it bled. Using it as a brush, he scribbled a healing and protecting spell — nothing too complex, just a ward for good fortune — on Tony's forehead, and kissed it to activate it.

Then he burst into action and jumped to get dressed. He didn't bother with the spell to erase his biological imprint this time, for they had access to his home and they would have plenty there, and instead grabbed Tony's wallet — the man  _had_ offered, after all. He used his still bleeding finger on a mirror, opening a portal to the place where he had his emergency stash — a new identity, money, the tools of his craft.

Men in black uniforms and guns started streaming in from the door and windows just as Loki crossed over.

He allowed the portal spell to continue so he could know that they had attended to Tony.

The commander spotted Loki in the mirror, giving him only tme to wave saucily before shooting at him in his ignorance.

The bullets broke the glass and, thus, the spell, and Loki was left staring into a broken mirror.

Time to phone Marcone and see if he would help Loki leave the country. Because clearly the American Dream wasn't built for Loki.

' _Anyway, Norway sounds nice, this time of the year,_ ' he thought, trying to cheer himself up.

 

 


End file.
